Confusing Calendar

Adjusting to Ethiopia is continuing well, and I estimate that it will take approximately 26 more months to become completely acclimated to the culture and language.  Each day in class I learn something new about Ethiopia that makes me say to myself, "Oooooh! My Ethiopian family makes a little more sense now!"  I will attempt to summarize a couple of the cultural differences I am learning about so you can begin to understand Ethiopia a little bit better.

Time Schedules:
Well, let's first start with the Ethiopian calendar.  Most of the world has adopted the Gregorian calendar that contains the 12-month-system I have known my whole life.  Ethiopia remains on a completely separate system.  Their calendar has 12 months, each with 30 days, and then a 13th month with just five days (or six if it is a leap year, which, of course, does not coincide with the Gregorian leap year).  It's not that simple though, their calendar begins on the day we call September 11.  And, it's still 2001.

Thoroughly confused yet?
The time is also different!  When the sun rises (6am) here it is 12:00.  The day progresses accordingly, so what we refer to as noon is 6:00 in Ethiopia.  This means making a simple plan with your family for dinner involves a quick time calculation.  This also makes conveying that "New Years" is approaching incredibly difficult, as here it is four months into their year.  Christmas had its own complications as well since the religions here celebrate it on January 7 (Gregorian calendar).  Ok, my head hurts now.

Punctuality:
Being on time here is not exactly a priority.  Many times meetings are made by just naming a day in the future you care to meet and then just showing up at the person's workplace sometime that day.  And I have been told that sometimes the person you want to meet with may then be out of town or away for a few hours without a precise schedule.  As someone who is typically running slightly behind schedule, you would think that this culture would embrace me whole-heartedly, but it is not that simple.  Being a ferenji, I am expected to have a plan and stick to it.
 
Just the other day a note was given to the host families detailing our Christmas plans.  Peace Corps took us to Lake Wenchi for the day for a little adventure and a day off of school on Christmas Day.  That night they had a dinner for us at a nearby hotel, which the note said, lasts until 9pm.  Well, after our white-elephant gift exchange ended and we finally concluded our night of mini-celebration, I arrived home a little after 10pm.  I was received with less-than-open-arms and I even got a "shame shame" finger point! Oops!  

At our Peace Corps Christmas gift exchange.

Spending Christmas away from home was hard enough without having disappointed the host family by exceeding my curfew.  The following morning I waited for my breakfast, which is usually ready around 7:30am, so I can leave by 7:40am and make the 20-minute walk to the Technical College by 8am.  At 7:55am I decided to just leave my compound assuming there would be no breakfast, and I grabbed a Fiber One granola bar from the small stash I have remaining.  As I walked out of my compound I ran into my sister who was apparently just about to serve me breakfast, and through broken Amharic, she just could not understand why breakfast was not my first priority.  This confrontation went on a few minutes and I finally left in tears; my first Ethiopia breakdown.

The situation alone was not stressful enough to trigger crying, but paired with the scolding the night before, realizing I missed American Christmas, and my failure to communicate "I am late" caused my world to momentarily fall apart.  I spent that day picking up the pieces and being consoled by incredibly supportive new friends.  When all is said and done, this breakdown will undoubtedly pale in comparison to future breakdowns; crying is just one of my coping mechanisms.  That night though my sister gave me an envelope with a singing Christmas card inside, along with a couple pieces of chocolate.  It made the events of the previous 24-hours seem so insignificant.  Things will inevitably get lost in translation. If it isn't my lack of punctuality, or minimal knowledge of Amharic, it will certainly be the difference in clocks and calendars.  Nevertheless, it is all a part of being a Peace Corps volunteer!

Walking on Cultural Eggshells

We have been taught repeatedly how communication is different in Ethiopia.  Americans tend to tell it like it is, very directly, while Ethiopians would rather just let you continue doing something incorrectly as to not embarrass or correct you.  For example, when making a request it is common for an Ethiopian to respond in English "It is possible," but what they really mean is the American "maybe, "aka "not likely."  This past week we learned the Amharic word that actually means "it is possible" and to humor ourselves the volunteers have begun liberally throwing it into conversations just as the Ethiopians do with the English equivalent.

So in order to not offend any of the Ethiopian, I try to avoid those possible conflicts and cultural faux pas.  In language class this week while learning to conjugate the verb "to pass" and "to hand" I realized just how carefully I was treading around my Ethiopian family.  I began thinking about those words and found myself  zoning out of class thinking, I would never ask anyone in my family here to pass me something at dinner or make a special request. For one, I usually eat alone before everyone else, so it is not like there is a big table full of plates to pass around.

In America if I was over at a friend's house for dinner, I would feel comfortable politely asking my host for, let's say, a glass of water. I would be confident in my ability to communicate my gratitude for the act, and I understand the culture enough to know that this is an appropriate request.  I am also aware that this request would take a minute at the most with just a turn of a handle.

Now let's look at this same situation at my average dinner in Ethiopia.  I could fumble through the verb conjugations for making the request for a glass of water, in which it is likely that I would call my sister a "he" and I would inevitably forget the word for "please."  In addition, asking for a glass of water unexpectedly here would require a lengthy process of heating the charcoal, collecting water from the outside faucet, and bringing the water to a boil.  Phew!  I already usually eat before everyone and feel like people are waiting on me, which is awkward enough without additional requests.

This was my whole thought process while in language class as an excuse for not learning the words for making such requests.  At the end of this mental exercise I realized how much I have been walking on cultural eggshells in Ethiopia.  I also realized that these excuses were just that, excuses.  I will inevitably step on toes here, and mispronounce just about every word I learn, but luckily Ferenji (foreigners) get quite the learning curve as long as you don't mind the Habesha (Ethiopians) chuckle along the way.  Will I ask for that glass of water at dinner tonight?  "It is possible."

Home Delicious Home

As I mentally scanned my adventures over the past week, nothing seemed bizarrely appropriate to write about at first. The last week has flown by so fast that things here are beginning to feel normal in a way.  The last few nights though the Trainees have been getting together to continue a mini-celebration of Christmas by watching Holiday movies, which has brought me back to the reality of my situation.  Christmas sans cold weather, colorful lights and the smell of an Evergreen in your living room just feels like pretending it is Christmas in July.

Before I get all nostalgic about American Christmas, I will get back to telling you about life in Ethiopia!  Last week I remembered a dream for the first time since leaving home in which I had this incredible shower.  Since then I have also dreamed I had a chance to go home and pack another suitcase, and another wonderful dream just about getting to wear jeans.  Simple pleasures in the States are now boosted to luxury status.

The hardest word yet. Trying repeating that one!

The Amharic lessons are coming along, and each day I feel slightly more prepared to live here for two years.  Don't get me wrong, it is also one of the hardest and most frustrating things I have ever had to endure, but sharing that pain with 39 other volunteers helps ease the stress.  Walking home the other day with a fellow trainee we realized that we knew the word for "home" and the word for "sweet," and we came up with "Bit Yetafetal Bit," Home Sweet Home.  After some deliberation, we realized that it actually translated "Home Delicious Home," which funny enough is the opposite of reality.  While injera (the sour-pancake eaten at every meal) is growing on me, so is my longing for Taco Bell and Chick-Fil-A.  In fact, that is now a common leisure activity between classes, naming the food you miss the most.
 

In other news, last Sunday (our only full day off the whole week), a group of around 30 of us decided to climb to the top of the mountain just outside of town.  For those of you who know Greenville, this is no Paris Mountain.  The Tulle Mountains run a few Kilometers away from Ambo, which allow for gorgeous picturesque views from anywhere in town.  We headed out at 7:30am following a local guide carrying an AK-47.  Four grueling hours later, we reached the top to the mountain.  The already-high altitude of Ambo combined with a lack of exercise for weeks now led to one of the hardest hikes of my life!  Let's just say I will never look at those mountains the same way ever again.  The view was breathtaking though, and if internet ever seems to move faster than that seven-hour hike, I will be sure to upload a picture or two.

Life here is definitely different, and never less than a grand adventure.  I am constantly discovering new things about life here in Ethiopia and the culture never ceases to amaze me.  I just found out today that the shed in the back of my compound houses a massive cow, which my mom milks to get the butter that has been in most of my meals since arriving here!  "Endaaaay??" I asked ("Ohhhhh?").  I had no idea!  The work that goes into each meal is immeasurable.  I am loving these new discoveries and I am enjoying being further accepted into this society each and every day.

Ene Yaselam Guad Nen

My language group during class.

"I am Peace Corps" we were taught to say in Amharic.  It was an attempt to teach us how to ask what someone's profession is, and tell ours in return, but the literal translation of "Peace Group" usually elicits more confusion than understanding.  My Amharic is coming along.  I am attending daily language sessions with Tigist, my Ethiopian teacher, and three other volunteers in my community cluster.  The combination of a formal class and living with a family that speaks very little English affords me a great opportunity for practice, which is the only way to truly learn a language!

This past weekend was somewhat anticipated, and somewhat dreaded.  Sunday brought our first completely free day, and many of the volunteers were unsure about spending the entire day with host families.  Overall, it did not really seem like a weekend except for my much-needed two-hour nap.  Spending free time here can come in a variety of activities, and unless you can finagle some quality alone time in your locked room, you are guaranteed to be prodded by the local children for money, and attention. I have befriended a few children on my block and they walk with me for about 5 minutes on my walk home, which is completely entertaining.

                                                                                               
Saturday afternoon, after school, I had lunch with other PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) at a café in town.  One local juice treat is called spreece, which means "mixed" in Amharic, and depending on the café, you never know what you are going to get.  It usually consists of a variety of fruit pureed into this thick, slightly chilled (if you are lucky), juice that you eat with a spoon.  I know it sounds unappetizing, but the main fruit used is avocado.  Puree avocado sans guacamole seasoning did not sound like a treat to me either at first, but one bite and I was hooked!  Yesterday's juice also had guava, pineapple, mango, and banana layered -- so delicious!  After juice and a bit of local cuisine for lunch I returned home where it was promised I could watch/help them make Dura Wat, a famous traditional meal in Ethiopia.

A little background: women here do all the housework and cooking, and as a guest I am usually lumped into the pool with the men, so I had to specifically ask to help with the cooking.  I spend most of my time with my sister, Almaz, at her sister's nearby house, with mostly girl cousins and sisters.  It is a lot of women -- most of them in their twenties.  So I enjoyed joining in to help with the cooking and finally be seen as "one of the girls."

Kids here play with their food too...

Dura Wat (and, by the way, I am completely spelling all these Amharic terms phonetically, and most likely incorrectly) is a chicken dish served on injera.  More background: injera is this slightly sour dough mixture made into thin pancakes and eaten at every meal in place of using silverware.  You simply use the injera to gather up bites of food and eat with your hands—actually not nearly as simple as the locals make it look.

So, Saturday I helped make Dura Wat at my sister's house.  It was an all-afternoon affair, which included killing the chicken that had woken me up for days, preparing a bucket-full of onions, grinding up hot peppers mortar-and-pistol-style, adding a healthy amount of oil, and stirring a pot for hours.  I took plenty of pictures, taught my host-nephew how to use an iPod, and was completely enthralled by the lengthy process.  I cannot believe the amount of work that goes into making one dish; needless to say, I savored every bit of dinner that night.

Outside the Ethiopian Orthodox church service.

Sunday I experienced an Ethiopian Christian Orthodox church, learned how to make injera, had the inaugural meeting of a PCT Bible Study, hand-washed/line-dried my clothes, and even fit in a nap!  Every second of every day is a cultural learning experience (nap included because I fell asleep to the sound of cows mooing and Amharic chatter nearby).

I love the adventure and challenge that comes with every day, and I chuckle at the things I now consider normal:  Dodging the baby cow in the grassy area of my complex, fashioning on my head lamp and rolling up a handful of toilet paper before making the short trek to the latrine, holding hands with random little children that approach me on my walk to school, sleeping beneath a mosquito net each night (well, that last one actually just makes me feel like a little princess).

There are so many more stories to tell, and culture to explain, but dinner is almost ready and this post is getting long! My address for training is still posted on the right of the blog.  Mail is loved, so please send me something.  The process is slow, but I will try to respond via email or letter to all items received.  Much Ethiopian love.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

The town we are training in, Ambo, has a population of around 50,000 people, which means it is big enough to get lost, but also small enough to be known.   Six mornings a week I make the 30-minute walk to the Technical College here our training classes are held.  By now, all the volunteers are used to hearing "ferenji" (foreigner) yelled by the children along the way; or simply, "You! You!"

 
In true Jennifer fashion, I found myself running late on the fifth day of class.  The first day I was wide-awake and ready an hour early, and somehow over the next few days I found a routine, got comfortable, and misread the time schedule, so I was forced to pay the 1 Birr for a taxi to school.  Given, most things around here are on "Africa Time," I was not too worried.  I also did not feel like speed walking the main road having to fend off the "ferenji" calls for twenty minutes, so I opted to take a taxi, and experience the adventure that would come with it.  I had been in a taxi the first day with a couple other volunteers and one of their host brothers as a translator.  I saw how it went down; I knew how much it cost, so I figured it couldn't be that hard.

Within a minute of walking on the main road, I made friends with this man who had books in his hand, thinking he was heading to the college as well.  He wound up having a different destination, but helped me nonetheless.  Before I knew it, I hopped in a car with a couple locals and drove the short distance down the main road where I was dropped off at the Technical College. Simple!

 That night I was at dinner with my sisters trying to absorb as much Amharic as possible when one sister spoke up, "You took taxi!"  I was startled for a minute and nodded along, "Yes, taxi. Technical college.  Awo." (I typically use a mix of Amharic and select English words I know they will recognize).  Then more was said in Amharic and all the sisters burst out laughing as the sister told the story of my taxi ride to the others.  They somehow knew the whole story.  I was late, I took a taxi.  It seemed simple and ordinary enough, but they thought it was hilarious.  I still do not know how they knew about my taxi ride, but with the growing number of strangers calling "Jennifer" as I pass by, I suppose word is spreading about the ferenji girl on my street.  In the end, I am proud that I took a taxi by myself, and I am happy to provide my section of town with something to talk about!

                    

My Life as a Roller Coaster

I have never in my life been on such a ride before.  Every day, every minute is a new emotion as I discover my new life here in Ethiopia.  This is something I never anticipated or prepared for, but I am trying to accept and process each new and mixed emotion as it comes.  I feel like I am on the edge of a breakdown one minute and completely at home the next.  The smallest gesture or smile will bring a tear to my eye, and most of the time I cannot figure out if I am happy, sad or overwhelmed.
 
All of these emotions have made me question my whole experience, which is also something I did not prepare for.  I have been so certain that Peace Corps is the right choice for me for months now, and so it never crossed my mind that I would question things once I got here.  However, I now find myself questioning who I am, why I am here, what my purpose in life really is, and how I can truly help this world.

 
I have also realized in the past week that I love a grand challenge.  I have experienced more bizarre moments throughout this past week than I have in the whole of my life prior to this week.  I am living with an Ethiopian family, who does not speak English, and whose customs are vastly different from anything I have experienced before. I have bathed from a bucket, dodged cattle on the main road of my town, and survived a pit latrine.  I would say I am adjusting to the culture pretty well.

 

The group of 40 Peace Corps volunteers has been scattered around the town of Ambo, Ethiopia living with host families for the next 10 weeks. Each day we spend hours in class learning the local Amharic language, cultural lessons, and technical job training.  Each night we return home to our host families where just about anything is bound to happen.  The other volunteers are such a great support group; hearing everyone's incredibly different host family stories and bonding through our shared awkward moments thus far is vital.  I value these new friendships and their support through this roller coaster of emotions.

 
Tonight is night three with my host family, the Bokosa Family (although they do not have a family name like at home, but Bokosa is my host father's name).  I am still figuring out how everyone is related as they do not have a word in Amharic for cousin, so each new relative is translated to me as brother or sister.  My main liaison is Almaz, my host family sister, who is in her late twenties and her son Naboni, who will turn five on Christmas (which is January 7th here).   We spend much of the time with her 5 "sisters" who are all around her age and live about a block away.  It is a group of wonderful women and when we visit with them only one thing is guaranteed: plenty of laughing!  I am pretty sure a majority of the laughing is directed towards me and my broken Amharic, but when I step out of the situation I realize how hilarious this whole thing is and I join in the laughter.

 
My family here has seen pictures of all of those wonderful people I love back home.  I showed them the small photo album I brought and explained in broken Amharic/English each picture. They all smiled so big at the end and said "Conjo. Conjo."  It means good; beautiful; the best. They are right.

Arriving in Ethiopia

 After making a medical stop for malaria pills and a shot, we were dropped off on the curb of Dulles airport with our piles of luggage.  A very long single-file line later and we had checked our big suitcases into Ethiopian Airlines and each received our precious plane ticket.  I have been eating "last meals" three times a day for a couple months now, but finally it was time to truly eat our last American meal for 27 months.  I awarded that honor to an airport cheeseburger and French fries.

I hardly slept on the 15-hour trip but I was entertained by the scenery as our "non-stop" flight landed in Rome to refuel for an hour.  I had just a peak at Italy before continuing to our final destination.  As we flew over Egypt I kept looking over Sammy in his window seat, mesmerized by the desert below.  

We arrived in Addis at 7:30 pm, and I still did not fully comprehend the distance we had just traveled.  Peace Corps staff met us and we all piled our luggage onto carts, each piece identified with a traditional red yarn tied to it.  We exited customs pushing our carts in a single-file line like a line of ants carrying their weights-worth of precious matter.  The crowd that was gathered outside customs waiting for their arriving loved ones, was so similar to the airport in Atlanta, and yet with all eyes on us it didn't feel the same in any way.

We followed our PC staff to our buses in the parking lot and about half way there the parking lot lights completely shut off.  Completely pitch black.  Several people found packed-away flashlights allowing us to continue and eventually the lights came back on.  Some subtle, and some not-so-subtle differences on the way to the hotel added to my initial cultural impression.  Ethiopians are more caring than anyone I have ever met…. But be careful crossing the streets!  I noticed huge intersections without traffic lights and open meat markets like you could not find in the States.  I also couldn't believe how helpful the hotel staff was towards us, hauling our over-weight bags up three flights of stairs faster than I could walk it!

 
Since our arrival we have continued with our orientation in various areas to prepare us for the departure to Ambo on Sunday.  In Ambo we will move in with host families and attend training classes that include culture, health and language for 10 weeks.  Considering we are volunteers, I have been so impressed with the amount of goodies we have been provided.  Not only have I been completely full with delicious food since stepping foot here, but we were outfitted with cell phones and water purification kits today. We were also told about our lockable metal trunk, mosquito nets, and buckets awaiting us with our anxious host families.  

I could not be more blessed having this incredible experience.  I have been thinking about my wonderful friends back home a lot lately and hope you are doing well.  Keep in touch and I love each of you!

Pockets Full of Flexibility

The morning I left Atlanta I could not believe I was actually embarking on this grand adventure.  It felt more like the "trip" my mom preferred calling it, than the “move” it actually was.  Nevertheless, I held back tears saying goodbye to my parents. It may have only felt like a trip that morning, but somewhere inside, my tear ducts knew what was really happening.  As I stood in the security line I realized this was the third time I have flown away for a significant period of time; Australia, Asia, and now Africa, but for over five times as long as any time before.
 
The plane ride went smoothly to DC and before I knew it, Jonathan was meeting me at my gate to help me with my 80-something pounds of luggage.  We loaded his car full and headed to have lunch with my wonderful friend Maizie at my favorite restaurant Nando's in Chinatown.  Yep, a Portuguese meal in Chinatown before departing for Africa.  I'm so worldly.
 
Nervousness for all the many unknowns in my very near future set in.  And even though I was unable to settle any of my favorite food, the company showed me the love and support I needed to settle my nerves.  Before saying goodbyes to Maizie after lunch my tear ducts once again reminded me of the upcoming reality.  She reassured me with her whispered cheer of "No Whammies. No Whammies. No Whammies."  Those words ran through my head many times that afternoon.
 
I don't think I have ever hit so many traffic lights on a car trip, but eventually, after what seemed like forever, Jonathan dropped me off at my hotel in Georgetown.  I confidently carried (and rolled) my overweight bags into the lobby and checked-in.  The immediate sight of fellow overweight-bag-bearers calmed my racing heart.  What was I so afraid of anyway?  A half-hour later I joined my 39 soon-to-be friends in signing registration forms which made us all officially Peace Corps Trainees!

Six hours of ice-breakers, information sessions and Ethiopia preparation; I have found my place.  Overlapping dreams, topped with an unbelievable amount of passion and desire to help others led to fast friends.  We are a fairly young group of forty volunteers with an impressive amount of experience ready to spend the next couple of years in Ethiopia.  What more in common do you need? I am so excited about the upcoming adventure.

All My Bags Are Packed, I'm Ready To Go

I leave tomorrow.

I leave tomorrow.

I leave tomorrow.

I swear my mind can't stop repeating that phrase. I almost don't believe it. It is hard to make your mind believe that you are going to a place that you cannot picture. I have seen pictures, but I cannot even start to realistically imagine what my life is going to look like, or feel like for the next 27 months. The whole concept is still a very abstract idea in my mind. But soon, very soon, this abstract notion will be a very real reality.

All I know is that in 48 hours from now I will be stepping foot in Ethiopia. I will be scared. I will be nervous. I will be more ready than ever.

I know I will be ready partly because as I look at my packed luggage, I know I am prepared for pretty much anything. When I finally slid that last zipper closed I had a huge sense of relief accompanied by a wave of reality. There they are; my bags are full and my to-dos are all checked-off. I'm moving to Ethiopia.

I could not have a better support system watching over me though. My loving family, incredible friends and caring neighbors; I could not do this without your encouragement. I have truly had more support offered for this trip than I could imagine, and it has really shown me how blessed I am. Thank you all for the words of advice, warm hugs and deep discussions. I am forever grateful.

On the right side of my blog is my mailing address. Please write to me!